


Darkness Within

by WildKitsune



Series: My Works in Progress [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Harry Potter is Dead, Hermione is 16, I have no self control, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Institutional Brainwashing, Light Bella/Voldemort, Older Man/Younger Woman, Voldemort never died, blame the murder twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27372526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildKitsune/pseuds/WildKitsune
Summary: It was Graduation Day for mudbloods all over Europe. Every House of Mudblood Education, or H.O.M.E for short, sent their fifth years to Hogwarts to be presented to the work-committee, and it was drilled into the students of H.O.M.E 13 that if they were not perfect, they would get the worst jobs that committee had to assign.  Hermione just hoped she could find work that didn't entail her servicing the nation's purebloods on her back or knees.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Voldemort
Series: My Works in Progress [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705810
Comments: 74
Kudos: 182





	1. Prolog: The Man with the Funny Stick

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Hermione didn't understand what was going on around her. She only knew that the man with the funny stick was making her mommy cry. The grownups had been talking for some time, and the studious little girl sat with her blocks as she tried to soak up every new word.

Some of the words they used she already knew. She was very good with ' _ please' _ and 'don't,' but she couldn't understand why her mommy kept repeating them. There were also many new words like ' _ wizard' _ and ' _ magic _ ,' which she couldn't begin to understand the meaning of, let alone how to pronounce them.

When the man started waving his funny stick at both Hermione's mommy and daddy, they moved back in fear. Hermione knew about fear. Her parents were giving the man the same look they had when she stepped out into the street alone or got too close to the stove.

She did not like people making her mommy afraid. 

"You no nice." She told the man as she stomped out in front of her parents. "Mommy, say please." She informed him as she put her little fists on her hips like she had seen her mother do a thousand times. Daddy always listened better if mommy talked with her hands like that.

When the man started to laugh at the three-year-old in front of him, it only made her angrier. His laugh wasn't a nice laugh like the kind one has when someone tickles you. This laugh was mocking and cold. He continued to chuckle as he lowered his funny stick at Hermione.

The anger was building in her, but so was the fuzzy feeling she sometimes got before odd things happened around her. She knew what this feeling meant; it meant that if she really wanted mint ice cream instead of broccoli, Hermione could have mint ice cream, but right then, she wanted this man to leave.

"Go away right now! You no come back!" She yelled at the man as she pushed all the fuzzy feelings out with the words.

In front of them, the man got a very funny far off look in his eyes before he nodded and disappeared with a popping sound.

With that problem solved, Hermione went back to her blocks. She had very important work to do as she tried to figure out how to spell the word ' _ please _ .' She was quite sure there was an S in it somewhere, but the placement was tricky.

As the little girl continued to play, she didn't notice the look her parents gave to one another. Suddenly they were more afraid of their daughter than the man who tried to take her away.

Later that night, Hermione was asleep when four people appeared in her bedroom. She did not stir as a severe-looking woman lunged at her bed before a platinum blond man grabbed the woman around the waist.

"She  _ cursed  _ my husband. I have rights." The woman said, trying to wiggle out of her companion's grasp.

"Is this why you volunteered for the job?" The man asked, sounding disgusted as he motioned for the other two to grab hold of the struggling witch. "Bella, she will be placed in one of the new HOMEs like all the rest of the filth."

When the two lumbering oafs finally got their hands securely on the witch, the man stood straight and dusted himself off.

"A little torture will teach the brat respect." Bella snapped and glared up at the men holding her.

"That is what the HOME will do. I'm not letting you ruin the Dark Lord's plans for these children just because your husband can't handle a three-year-old. Take her to my wife; I'll finish up here." He ordered the men and waited for the rest to go before he turned back to the girl.

He looked down at the creature with a deep frown. They looked so much like real people; he couldn't help but think that his son was around her age. With a sigh, he stunned the girl before picking her up carefully.

"One day, you're going to wish I let Bella kill you." He told the body in his arms before he too disappeared on the spot.

By morning the little girl's parents had no memory of ever having a daughter. Many muggles all over Europe woke, not knowing the precious thing that had been stolen from them in the night.


	2. Graduation Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
> 
> A/N- Because the prolog is so short I decided I needed to post chapter 1 today as well.

Hermione stood in formation with the rest of her class. Her eyes locked on the neck of the boy in front of her. A uniform of faded gray robes made the students look a bit like a group of well-trained ghosts. 

There were precisely twelve students, eight boys, and four girls, which gave them the perfect numbers to line up in three rows of four. They had spent more time learning the formation and how to stand within their ranks than Hermione would have liked, but she knew it was imperative that all made a good impression on their big day.

It was Graduation Day for mudbloods all over Europe. Every House of Mudblood Education, or H.O.M.E for short, sent their fifth years to Hogwarts to be presented to the work-committee, and it was drilled into the students of H.O.M.E 13 that if they were not perfect, they would get the worst jobs that committee had to assign.

Headmaster Fiddlewit walked up and down their rows, inspecting everyone for  _ any _ possible imperfection. Hermione tensed as he came around to her. She bit the inside of her cheek as his hand ran over her scalp and tucked stray hairs back into the painfully tight bun. Her hair was always a problem.

"You know this is going to be the end of you, mudblood." He spoke in a low tone. "This…" He grabbed her bun and jerked her head back. "Is going to have your working on your knees." He added as he forced her to kneel. "Would you like to start now, show your fellow muds what that smart mouth of yours is for?"

He always singled her out, always made lewd comments, and worked very hard to provoke her into retaliation. Most of the time, Hermione gave him precisely what he wanted. Most of the time, she burst with anger or outrage or her  _ smart mouth _ . But that day, Hermione had to keep control. If she let herself go, he would keep from graduation.

She knew what happened to the girls he kept back a year. It was clear exactly what the Headmaster did with his 'sixth years,' and Hermione wouldn't last like that. She needed to be out in the world; she needed to get away from that place.

"I asked you a question, mudblood!" The Headmaster spat in her face.

"I'm sorry, Sir." She said with forced respect. "I will try harder to fix my hair."

"You better." He said, shoving her forward before letting go.

"The rest of you into line at the fire. We will wait for  _ Granger _ to fix herself." He growled before the rest of her class jumped into action.

She waited a moment for everyone to move away before getting back to her feet. She rushed to the girl's bathroom and forced herself not to cry as she pulled the wild mass back into as neat of a bun as she could make.

As she looked at the strands already escaping the bun, her hope dried up. The most sought after work for a mudblood was to become some rich pureblood's personal project and servant. Generally, they were well treated, and the work was said to be enjoyable. But that wasn't what he was talking about when she said she would work on her knees. He was speaking of the pleasure houses. If a mudblood could not serve the nation in any other way, they were left to submit to their better's any twisted fantasy. The year before, they had been taken to one so that every young mudblood knew what awaited them if they were a disappointment. Hermione and her class were forced to watch as a blond girl was brutally tortured and cursed by two purebloods as they enjoyed cocktails. They called her Clearwater, and Hermione sometimes still heard the woman's screams in her nightmares.

"You should have given in." A soft voice came from behind her. "Now, you've forced him to make a scene at your graduation; he won't thank you for it once he has you."

Hermione turned to see the girl Headmaster Fiddlewit had kept back last year. "It isn't in me to roll over and let him have his way." She said, moving past the girl; she needed to rejoin her class.

"I'll be going to a pleasure house today." She said to Hermione's back. "But I don't think you'll make it to one next year. He's going to break you long before you have the chance."

"I'm not coming back here," Hermione said, rushing forward before the girl could spread any more doom.

By the time she rejoined the rest of the class, they were already heading through the floo, and she had to wonder if Fiddlewit thought she wasn't going to come back after the incident in the class. She bit her cheek again as she realized he probably sent the girl to try and convince Hermione to stay behind.

"One step out of line, and you're mine, Granger." He growled as she passed him into the fire.

The class came out into a large room built specifically for moving large groups of people in and out of the old school. It was cold and looked much newer than the rest of the castle.

Once the Headmaster had joined them, he led his class in their perfect line down the hall. Hermione knew what was at stake; she knew she had to be better than even her fellow mudbloods. So instead of giving in to the desire to look around the beautiful school she would never attend, Hermione kept her eyes in line and focused.

They directed to a large entranceway, and out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the students that attended the school watching the mudbloods pass. She longed to be with them, to be able to learn what real magic was like, instead of the cleaning and labor spells she was restricted to.

There was a single simple fact drilled into everyone like her from a young age. They weren't as powerful as real wizards and witches. Mudbloods were lesser, and it was a kindness that they were allowed into wizard society at all. Dreams were killed at the H.O.M.Es, but Hermione couldn't help her wish. Even though she knew she would never be as good as the least among them.

When the man started speaking from the front of the room, Hermione jumped slightly as she hadn't noticed they were in formation. Her body had taken its place while her mind wondered. She hoped no one noticed the flinch.

"I am Headmaster Severus Snape." The dark man introduced himself in an uninterested baritone. "One of my many duties as leader of the prestigious school is to head the committee that finds  _ your kind _ work after we wizards have been generous enough to educate you. This year there are 73 graduates of the H.O.M.Es program. So then you should realize there are 72 other applicants for jobs we may have available to you. Listen closely because I will not be repeating myself. When it is your turn to speak with the committee alone, you should have a placement in mind as well as its designated work number."

Hermione's stomach twisted into knots as she waited to see what kind of work she even had open to her.

"Three personal female  _ assistant  _ positions open, number 835721." They all knew what that meant, and she wondered how many of her fellow girls would apply. "One personal male  _ assistant _ position open, number 835722."

The list went on from there, everything from cleaning government buildings to trash removal from public areas. It was all work the wizards would never do themselves, and Hermione knew she would have to pick the best of the worst for herself.

"And lastly, we have a position available here at Hogwarts as a Library assistant, designation number 83571832097346182315310A5." Everyone in the room blinked at the much longer number they were expected to memorize for what Hermione saw as a dream position; she couldn't help grinning as she felt a bit light-headed with excitement. "And of course, there are plenty of positions open at the pleasure houses, designation number zero." He finished as the men around him chuckled. The Headmaster of Hogwarts didn't even break a grin.

Soon after, they started with the personal interviews, speaking to each student about their desired positions. About half the girls applied for the female assistant, and it made Hermione grind her teeth.

The graduates were addressed in order of H.O.M.E, which meant Hermione had to listen to the students of twelve other H.O.M.Es and half the those from her own before it was her turn. She stepped forward but was very careful not to look at any of the wizards behind the table.

"What position are you applying for, Miss Granger?" Headmaster Snape asked without looking up from a stack of papers in front of him. All the men at the table had been taking notes the entire time.

Before she could speak, someone else cut into her words. "The girl isn't ready," Fiddlewit said as he stepped up beside her. "I feel that she could attend a sixth year at the H.O.M.E."

"Under what grounds?" The darker man asked, sounding more interested than he had a few moments ago.

"She is disobedient and disrespectful. I feel with a more hands-on approach…" He started, but a new man from the table in front of them cut him off.

"She has top marks in your school." The blond man said before turning steel grey eyes on Hermione. She felt odd looking into them like she had seen them before in a dream. "How did she receive the marks if she is unworthy to be here, Caris?" He asked, using the Headmaster's first name to put the lesser man in his place.

"I-she-the-umm…" Fiddlewit started as he grasped for something to say.

"We, of course, know about your one on one attention, but if you want a personal assistant for yourself, you are going to have to pay for one this year." The man said, looking at her Headmaster, who shrank back from the table.

Hermione blinked as she realized a man she had hated and feared for so many years, was now being reprimanded in front of the entire room. They had been waiting for him to speak up so they could put him in his place.

"Now, Miss Granger, continue," The blond said in a cold, detached voice.

They had not been protecting her, but the asset she represented to the system. Fiddlewit's flow of girls over the years had been him  _ stealing _ the government's property. She filed this information away before pressing on.

Three other students had applied for the library position, and all of them had gotten the number wrong and had been placed in much less desirable jobs, including one in the pleasure houses.

"Hogwarts Library assistant, number 83571832097346182315310A5." She said in as clear of a voice as she could make.

The students behind her held their breaths as they waited to see if she got the number right. Hermione knew she had; she remembered everything.

The blond leaned over and whispered something into the Headmaster's ear that made him smile in a cruel but somewhat delighted way.

"With your display here today, and your records, we have no choice but to grant you the open position." He said with a nod of his head that sent her back to her previous place in line.

Once the final graduate was placed, the group was quickly broken up and taken directly to their new positions. They had no belongers back at the H.O.M.E.; mudbloods were restricted from owning anything before they could purchase it themselves. The only thing in the world that belonged to any of them was the regulation wand at their sides.

As everyone was getting organized into groups to depart, Hermione was unsure what she was supposed to do. She had a position at the school, but she didn't think it would be proper to go wandering about like she wanted to do.

While she was considering her next move, a clean little house elf appeared before her. Its chin was held high, and Hermione was sure it would be looking down its nose at her if it wasn't so short.

"Itzy will show Mudblood to her room." The elf said before turning on its feet and heading out of the hall.

Hermione followed the elf at a quick pace but found it a bit hard to keep up. The elf wove in and out of students with practiced ease, while Hermione had to keep a slow pace so she wouldn't knock into them by accent.

"Could you please slow down, Itzy?" She called to the elf as she was sure she was about to lose the creature completely.

The elf stopped then and paced back to her, seeming irritated. "Mudblood needs to speed up." She snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't want to knock...Ooff." She said as a red-headed blur slammed straight into her and knocked her off her feet.

"Itzy is sorry!" The elf cried in shock. "Did mudblood hurt Master? Master want Itzy to punish mudblood?"

"Shoot, sorry." The boy came into focus as he reached his hand down to help Hermione back to her feet. "I didn't see you there." He said as he completely ignored the elf as it scurried around, trying to be helpful.

"I was standing in the way," Hermione said nervously. She didn't think she was supposed to be talking to the students and didn't wish to be kicked out before she even started. "We should be going." She added, looking to the elf who nodded in agreement and took Hermione's hand roughly.

"Well, okay…" The boy said, looking around and really seeing her for the first time. "Oh… oh… yeah…" He said, realizing to whom he had been talking. "Yeah…" He added again as Hermione was pulled through the hall.

After that, Itzy seemed to think man-handling Hermione was the only way to keep her out of trouble. They went down several flights of stairs before the little elf stopped in a silent hallway in front of a wooden door.

"This where mudblood live now." She said before pushing the door open. "Report to the library at seven tomorrow."

"I understand. But where exactly is the library?" Hermione asked as she stepped into her small room.

"Third floor, not even mudblood can miss it." The elf said with a sneer.

Hermione looked around to get herself acclimated to her new room. It was small but also clean and dry. A twin-sized bed sat against one wall with a trunk placed at the end for storage. Against the other wall sat a small table rough table, with a single candlestick that lit the room. The room was small enough that she could sit on her bed and use the table. 

"Where do I bathe and eat?" She asked, looking back to the elf now.

"Mudblood, take breakfast and dinner in room. Lunch with librarian. Bathrooms down hall on the left. Mudblood can figure rest out self, Itzy very busy." The elf seemed irritated and disappeared with a pop.

"Thank you," Hermione said to the empty room, sighing as she looked around again. "This is all mine." She told the room, and she couldn't help feel proud of the small space. "I work at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She announced with even more pride filling her voice.

After giving herself some time just to let her luck sink in, she crawled onto the bed and laid down so she could enjoy the silence of a room to herself.

It had been a very trying day, and she hadn't slept the night before, so it was no surprise when she drifted off to sleep.


	3. Dreams & Wishes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Hermione swam in shadows. She could feel it brush her skin, leaving behind tingling traces in its wake. It wasn't the first time she had this dream, and it was one of her favorites. The shadows played in her hair and ran over her form. They were warm, soft, and caring. They embraced her, protected, and loved Hermione.

She let herself sink into it and let the shadows fall into her. She absorbed them through her skin; she breathed them into her lungs. She knew they would never harm her.

In the dream, she always felt safe in a way she never experienced while awake. Sometimes they would whisper things to her, tell her she was powerful, intelligent, and that she would never be alone. They told her all the reasons the purebloods feared her.

Tonight though, there was something different; there was a current in the shadows that had never been there before.

"They are near." The voices said, and she felt as they pulled her towards something. "They are near." They repeated over and over again. All the while, Hermione could feel the pull as the closer she got, the faster she moved.

"Who?" She asked, not understanding what had caused this change in her dream.

"The other." They answered her as best they could. She knew the voices were mostly emotion and power without actual sapience. "They are near." They told her again, wanting her to understand.

When she suddenly collided with a tangible human form, she woke with a start. She was breathless as she once again got used to the realness of her room. Her heart was pounding as if she had been running. The candle on her table had burned almost all the way down. In the dimness of the room, she could still feel the touch of a chest against her back. Large arms had closed around her as if just as surprised by their collision as she was.

Slowly she laid back down, took in a deep breath to calm herself. She needed to do mundane things before she could let herself think about the strange new turn in her dream.

Pushing herself back up, Hermione searched for more candles and some night clothes to put on. She found both and an extra set of linens in the trunk by her bed.

In the bathroom, down the hall, Hermione found it very similar space to the one she shared with the other girls at H.O.M.E 13. It had several cubbies, all marked with different names. There was one already marked with Granger, so she figured the supplies within it were meant for her.

As she braided her hair for bed, the door opened to admit a tall boy with dirty blond hair. He didn't seem to see her as he walked over to the cubby, took bath supplies out of the box marked Towler, and headed to a shower. 

Hermione blushed, looking away as he started to undress. She cleared her throat so that the boy would know he wasn't alone.

"Davies, I've had too long of a day to deal with any of your shite." He said, obviously not looking up at her.

"I'm not Davies exactly." She told him, keeping her eyes down from the mirror as she didn't want to know how far along in undressing he was.

"Wh-" He started before the door opened again. It seemed as if she had caught the time the others got off of work.

"Hey, that's a girl." Another boy said from the doorway. "What's a girl doing in our loo?"

"I don't know; she was in here when I got here," Towler said from behind her.

"This girl got assigned as the new assistant to the librarian today." She said, not liking how they were talking as if she wasn't here.

"Maybe she's lost." The boy from the door said as if he hadn't heard her. "What house are you in?" He asked slowly.

She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. "I'm not in a house; I just told you, I work here now." She snapped, annoyed they weren't listening.

"Impossible; why would they hire a girl?" Doorway boy asked dumbly.

"Hey, get out of the way." A third boy said as he pushed past the one in the doorway and ran to the stall in the corner.

"I'm Hermione Granger, the new library assistant." She repeated in a low growl.

"Stop being a pig, Roger," Towler said, coming around into her view again with a towel wrapped around his bottom half. "Sorry about that, Hermione." He said, holding out the hand that wasn't holding his towel up. "We didn't know they were looking for a new mudblood."

She took his hand and shook it as she kept her eyes strictly on his face. "Yes, well, it all happened this afternoon." She said, trying to calm herself down. "Maybe we can talk when you aren't trying to take a shower. You did have a long day after all ." She said before retreating from the bathroom to give them some time.

Finding out she would be sharing a space with at least three boys had utterly knocked the dream from her head. Hermione stewed on it to the point she didn't notice the smell of food when she got back to her room and was surprised when she found a small meal placed out on the table.

The rest of the night was uneventful, and when she finally drifted off to sleep again, she had no more odd dreams.

Itzy had been correct in that the library was hard to miss after one got to the third floor. Getting to the floor, on the other hand, wasn't exactly straightforward. She had never been in a place where the staircases seemed to move on a whim.

So even though she had started to the library an hour early, she had only just made it to the room on time.

Hermione felt her eyes widen as she stepped into the two-story room with too many books to count. She thought her heart might break as she stepped into a world of perfect beauty.

"You must be Granger." Said a serious-looking woman all in black. "I am Madam Pince, the librarian of this collection." She told the girl proudly. "Let us get started; the heathens will start arriving just after breakfast."

"Of course, Madam Pince." Hermione swallowed and nodded her agreement. "What will my duties here be?"

"You will start by dusting the books on this level." She said, holding out a feather duster.

"You don't use magic for that?" Hermione asked as she had been taught several useful dusting spells.

"It could harm the books." The woman snapped, pulling the duster back. "We do not clean with magic in this room. It is why I refuse to let those little elves in here and why you have the job. Do you understand?"

"Of course, I'm sorry." She said, not wishing to do anything to harm the books.

"After you are finished dusting, you will start to learn the organizational system that is in place here. Once you understand it to my satisfaction and only then will you be allowed to shelves any of my books."

Hermione nodded her understanding as she took the duster from the woman. "Ma'am, will I ever be allowed to..." She bit her bottom lip, unsure if this was a smart question to ask on the first day.

"Out with it, girl!" The woman snapped, putting her hands on her hips.

"To read any of the books?" She asked, trying to force herself not to blush at what she suddenly deemed as an idiotic question.

"We will see once I get a better idea of how you handle them." She said, and with a nod, she turned her back on Hermione to get her work done. 

With a deep, relieved breath, Hermione looked around at the large room as she tried to decide where to start. As Madam Pince had headed left to the Librarian's desk, Hermione decided turning right would get her the most alone time to think.

She hadn't gotten very far when she heard the main doors open, and students start to file in. They chatted softly with one another, earning a reprimand from the Librarian, but none of them seemed to mind.

She wasn't sure how long it had been, but she was only four aisles in when she saw her first student. He was a tall boy with white-blond hair and a nose very similar to the blond man from the day before.

His eyes ran up her loose grey robes when he noticed her, and a sneer formed on his face.

"Father said there would be a new mudblood on staff today." He said, looking her over as if she was a curiosity. "What is wrong with your hair? Did you get zapped by a spell already this morning?"

Hermione tried to flatten her mass of curls and frowned at the boy. Her instincts told her not to show weakness around him, so she decided to sneer right back.

"Why do you care?" She asked boldly.

"It speaks!" He said with a smile pretending to be shocked by the revelation. "You know you should limit contact with your betters?" He asked as he plucked the duster from her hands.

She had been told her whole life that pureblood wizards were indeed her betters, but the boy saying it so directly rubbed her more fiercely than usual. She could feel the crackle of untrained magic flow through her veins, wanting to hurt him. She hadn't had an outburst in years, but for some reason, she could feel it rising now.

"Give that back; I have work to do." She snapped at him, lunged for the duster.

He moved just in time for Hermione to slam herself into the shelf, and before she could turn back, he moved up behind her pressing her against the books with his chest.

"I can think of some work for you to do, mudblood." He whispered as he pushed the mass of hair out of his way.

She closed her eyes tightly as she simultaneously tried to think of a way out of his grasp and focused on holding the burning of her magic back from exploding at him.

"Draco, does Slughorn want three inches or feet?" A familiar voice asked as a new person came around the corner.

The boy sighed, relaxing his hold on her without moving away. "Little busy here, Ron." He said in a slightly irritated tone.

The interruption had given Hermione's magic a chance to cool, but she still looked at the redhead from the day before with fear in her eyes.

"A new girl in the school for less than a day, and you're already being a prat?" Ron asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"She isn't a girl; she's a mudblood." The one called Draco said but still stepped back from her.

"I'm pretty sure she's both, or you wouldn't be interested," Ron countered, giving Hermione a chance to move away from both of them.

"You know it's okay to have a bit of fun with the help every so often, not that  _ you _ would understand about having servants," Draco dropped the duster at her feet. "Three feet," he added as he grabbed a book from the shelf and headed towards the other boy.

Ron looked her over as if he was making sure she wasn't injured before heading back with the blond.

Once she was alone, Hermione let herself fall to her knees. She swallowed as she realized she was still shaking from what could have happened. Hermione didn't know what she feared more, his advances, or what her magic could have done to him. She didn't want to think about what they would have done to her if she hurt the boy.

She was still trying to regroup when the redhead, Ron, reappeared in the aisle. "I'm sorry about that." He told her nervously.

She swallowed and pushed herself to her feet. Hermione didn't have the luxury of showing these purebloods any weakness. "It doesn't matter." She told him, turning back to her work.

"What you are, gives him no right to act like that." The boy pressed, moving closer. "I'm Ron, by the way, what's your name?"

"Granger." She answered, wondering why he was still talking to her.

"Last name or first?" He asked with a frown.

"Last, I don't think we're on a first-name basis. I'm the help, remember?" She asked, wondering what was wrong with him.

"Okay, Miss Granger, I still think you should call me Ron." He said with a bit of a grin and held his hand out to her.

She looked at it and tilted her head. "You want to purposefully touch me?" Hermione asked as she was trying to make sense of him.

"Draco was purposefully touching you a whole lot more intimately. Is that how you like-" He started as he took a step closer.

Hermione took another step back and shook her head. "No." She snapped, then made a point to turn her back on him and focused one dusting.

"Sorry, I just- You hear a lot of things about your kind, and I've never really had a chance to talk to one before. At least not a girl." Ron said, watching her clean.

"Don't you have three feet to write?" She asked, wishing she could be reading the books instead of dusting them.

"Meh, it's not that important." He said casually.

"Not that  _ important _ ?" Hermione turned to him with a look of shock and annoyance. "Of course, it's important! Why would you ever give up the chance to learn?"

He looked at her for a long time as if he was trying to decide if she had suddenly gone mental. "It's  _ only _ school; I'd rather be out in the world doing something real. You muggle-borns get to go to work at fifteen; that's so much better than being stuck here."

"Only because you have so much more to learn than we do. Unless you like to pick up trash and dust shelves?" She asked as she held the duster out to him.

He looked at the thing as if it might bite him. "No. But that doesn't mean anything we are studying is worthwhile either." He said before walking away.

Hermione shook her head, feeling that the subject was resolved before she heard him return a few moments later.

"You can borrow this tonight; you tell me what I need from fifth-year charms." He told her as he held a book out to her.

She blinked at it a few times before looking at his face. He seemed earnest; she looked at the book again and then back to his face. Was he playing a joke on her?

"You're going to let me take this for a whole night?" She asked uncertainly. "Won't you need it?"

"Charms homework isn't due till next Monday." He said, shaking the book at her.

"Thank you!" She said a bit too loudly as she couldn't stop herself from wrapping the book in a tight hug. She blushed a moment later and stepped back from him, feeling shy. No one had ever been so nice to her.

He was also blushing, and it took him a few minutes to remember what he was doing. "Oh- yeah- just- You'll see what I'm talking about after you read the first chapter." He told her before turning awkwardly away and heading back to his study group.


	4. Life of a Mudblood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

The rest of the day was quiet, and as she dusted the endless shelves, she read the titles of the books that she passed. She wanted to have a basic understanding of the organization as soon as possible, so she could impress Madam Pince when it came time to learn shelving.

Lunch was eaten in silence. They sat together in a small back room attached to the library where no books were allowed. Madam Pince watched Hermione but frowned every time the younger girl opened her mouth to ask a question.

The librarian kept Hermione there until eight when she told her to report back at five the next morning.

Tired and dusty, all Hermione could think about as she headed back to her room was a nice hot shower. She went directly for the bathroom when she found her way down to the mudblood hallway.

Pushing the door open, she heard a shower already going. Thinking of the night before, Hermione decided she would have to get over her modesty if she had to share a bathroom with a bunch of boys. 

She started a shower for herself and gave it a minute to warm as she collected her things and a towel. She undressed carefully so that no one walking in could see her, then slipped into the shower and let the hot water run over her dry, dusty skin.

She moaned in pleasure as truly hot water ran down over her head. A bump than a curse sounded from the shower next to her's.

"Did I scare you?" She asked, smiling to herself as she started to wash the day from her body.

"You're a girl." He said as if they hadn't already gone over this the night before.

"Yes, I'm Hermione Granger. I'm the new assistant librarian, and you are?"

"Umm…" He started, then cleared his throat. "I'm Justin, Justin Finch." He said as though he wasn't entirely sure of that fact. "I'm a groundskeeper here."

"Nice to meet you, Justin." She said as she heard his shower stop. It was a long moment before she realized there was no sound of movement coming from Justin. "I promise not to peak if I can trust you to do the same." It was kind of fun to be the bold one for once.

"Umm… Yeah. That sounds fair." He said before pushing the curtain to his stall open.

"What sounds fair?" Towler asked curiously as he entered the bathroom.

"Hermione won't peak on us if we don't peek on her," Justin explained as she finished bathing.

"Does that mean I get to see you in your towel tonight?" Towler asked playfully.

"It's not like I have a robe," Hermione answered, blushing a bit. She was glad she was still in the shower so they couldn't see.

Towler chuckled, and she heard the stall on the other side of her being pushed open. "We usually eat as a group in my room if you want to join us, Hermione."

"Where's your room?" She asked as she shut off her shower and reached for her towel.

"Just across the way." He said easily. "The elves usually deliver dinner around nine-ish; just bring your dish with you."

"Okay..." She said, feeling a bit nervous about actually socializing with her fellow mudbloods. "Umm. How do you usually dress?" She asked as she had planned to put on her night things when she got back to her room.

"Sleeping clothes, just too much work to change for dinner," Justin answered from the sinks.

Hermione smiled and nodded to herself as she wrapped the towel tightly around her. "Yeah, okay." She said again before opening the curtain and stepping out into the bathroom. "I guess I will see you both then." She added, leaving the bathroom as quickly as she could. She didn't want them to see her blush.

Once back in her room Hermione slipped on her nightgown and brushed her hair. She braided the unruly mass so it didn't choke her in her sleep, then fidgeted as she waited for her dinner tray. She looked down at herself, unsure if it would be okay for these boys to see her in a nightgown.

She wished she had a mirror to make sure they couldn't see anything noteworthy. She assumed the Towler's room would be as dark as hers, so there was no way for anyone to see anything.

When her tray arrived, she picked it up and headed back down the hall towards the boy's room. The door was already wide open, and the three were already getting comfortable.

"So, this is all of us?" Hermione asked as she looked at the three boys, all very close to her age.

"Well, the elves do most of the work in the school," Justin said from his spot on the floor. Towler moved so she could sit next to him on the bed and use the small table as well.

"So, what do you all do around the castle?" She asked, looking at the three boys curiously. These were her peers now the only people it was alright to talk to casually.

"We all work on the grounds and forest. Mostly landscaping and the like." He said, nodding to the other boys. "Sometimes, they need something fixed or moved in the castle that just can't be done by magic for this reason or that."

"Madam Pence won't let any of the elves into the library, and you can't use magic on the books, so I think my main job is going to be dusting everything." She told them with a smile.

"Well, that doesn't sound too bad, really," Davies said lightly.

"I don't know." Towler frowned. "You're going to have a lot of direct contact with  _ them _ ." He said, and all three boys frowned.

"That's true; we get to avoid a lot of that with our work," Justin said, nodding sagely.

"You mean the purebloods?" She asked, looking at them as she nodded. "Yes, that is going to take some getting used to." She said, thinking about her contact with Malfoy and then with Ron. "But they're not all horrible, like my teachers back at the H.O.M.E. Most just want books."

"Just watch out for the ones that want to make  _ friends _ ," Davies said, sounding. "They're the most dangerous."

"I'll keep that in mind." She said, thinking about the book Ron had given her.

"Especially if their guys," Towler added in giving her a guarded expression.

"When did I get a bunch of big brothers? Don't worry; I can handle myself." She asked, looking at the three of them, and they all grinned.

"I think it is because you're fresh out of a H.O.M.E.," Justin said with a shrug. "We don't want anything bad happening to you."

After that, the conversation turned to the castle's daily workings and places Hermione needed to visit when she had some time to herself. The boys all had Sunday as their day off to get things for themselves and rest from the week's hard labor. Hermione didn't know her workweek; she would have to ask Madam Pence in the morning.

When they had all finished their meals, it wasn't long before the boys were yawning. She wished them a good night and headed back to her room to pull out the book Ron had let her borrow. She thought about how he had been very nice to her and wondered about the other mudblood's warnings.

She considered not reading the book, but she decided it was crazy not to take advantage of it while she could. It wasn't like she could return it at that moment. She curled up with the tome most of the night. The spellwork was much more complex than anything she had been taught, and she wished she had some paper to take notes on all the wonderful spells.

When she finally did drift off to sleep, Hermione dreamed of shadows once more, but she could still feel that she wasn't alone even before the other spoke.

"Why are you here, spirit?" A man asked, and though she could only see the darkness surrounding everything, she got the sense he was trying to look at her.

"I'm not a spirit." She told him unafraid. "This is my dream." She said because it was a simple truth. But why was she suddenly dreaming about a man with a deep dark voice?

"No, dear spirit of darkness." He reached out and took her wrist. She could feel his skin against hers. He held her wrist hard as if it was taking everything he had to keep hold. "This is  _ my _ dream," He pulled her quickly to him and trying to trap Hermione in his arms.

She woke again with a start. She was blushing deeply as she could still feel the contact between their naked bodies and the way that connection made her body sing.

"That was so weird." She said to no one before checking her clock to realize it was almost time to get up. She groaned, rubbing her face. She should not have stayed up so late.

As it was nearly time to wake anyway, Hermione cleaned up and got dressed for her day. She walked down to the bathroom to fix her hair into the same kind of bun she had worn to Graduation. She wanted to look neat and professional; it had nothing to do with the blond boy, Draco, making fun of it yesterday.

She got to the library a bit faster today as she was already starting to learn of quarks of the enchanted castle. Hermione smiled at Madam Pence as she held Ron's book to her chest.

"Good morning Ma'am." She said, lowering her head respectfully.

"Is that a library book?" The vulture-like woman eyed the book in her hands.

"No, Ma'am. A student let me borrow it yesterday." She said, feeling a bit more unfordable now. "Is that not allowed?" She asked, worried. She didn't want to lose this job.

"Does it have the student's name in it?" The older woman asked as she pulled it from Hermione's hand. "Mr. R Weasley. Humm, well, I will be asking him if he actually let you borrow it, and we will see." She said, taking control of the book before opening the doors to the library.

"You'll see Ma'am." She said, wondering if the other boys were right and this Ron was setting her up. She hoped that he would come through and tell the truth because he had seemed nice before.

"Well, for now, you can get started with dusting the other side." Madam Pence handed off the feather duster once again.

"Ma'am, I was wondering if I work every day?" She asked timidly, she wouldn't mind if that was what was required, but she would like to understand her position from the start.

"During the school year, you will have a rotating day off from week to week. When summer comes, you'll have Sundays to yourself." She explained with a nod. "That is if you last until summer." She added, sounding doubtful.

"Thank you, Ma'am." She said with a bow of her head, glad she could spend her day among the stacks and away from the sour woman.

She could tell when the library opened for students as the candles brightened on every wall, but it was still a while before she could hear movement as students entered after breakfast and started their day.

"The boy says he did lend you the book." Madam Pence said as she rounded the shelf Hermione had been dusting.

She looked around at the area she had just finished, checking it with a keen eye. "You may not be completely hopeless." She said without even trying to hide her reservations. "I have an errand for you; follow me." She added, turning on her heels and heading back towards the front desk.

Hermione frowned as she followed the woman, doing a quick spell to disappear some of the dust that had settled on her before heading out where others could see her.

"These three books must be delivered to an office in the north corridor down on the first floor." She said, pointing to the tomes in question. "Come directly back here after you are done, and if they have any books they would like to return, you will bring them, of course." She said, keeping a close eye on Hermione as she picked up the three ancient books.

"Of course Ma'am." She held the books with the utmost care.


	5. Misdeeds of a Curious Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

It didn't take her long to get back down to the first floor, but it was a bit confusing to know which hall was the north one. She felt a bit awkward trying to ask students as they passed, ignoring her completely. Finally, she saw two men in their early twenties standing by a hall and figured it was the best shot she had.

"I'm sorry, sir." She kept her eyes down. "I'm new. I'm supposed to bring these books to an office down the first floor north corridor, but I'm not sure which one that is."

"This is the north corridor." The man said, not unkindly. "His office is the last door on your left. Percy can direct you after that."

"Thank you."

Only after entering the hall did Hermione realize the two men must be guards. As soon as she passed them, the area went from mildly full to completely empty. Hermione passed quite a few doors as she headed down the hall. At the very end, there was a massive door with the nation's symbol carved in relief on the black wood.

There was a nervous tightening to her stomach as she started to have an idea who she was delivering these books to. Everyone knew  _ he _ lived and conducted his business out of Hogwarts, but what were the chances a mudblood like her would ever get any direct contact?

When she knocked on the door the guard had mentioned, a skinny redhead answered and looked her over questioningly. She opened her mouth to explain why she was there, but he waved her in before she could speak.

"This is from the library?" He asked, looking down his nose at her.

"Yes, sir." This man had a very different tone from the guard down the hall. So many redheads about, it seemed odd. She held the books out to him, but he shook his head.

"His books must be given to him directly." The man explained, ushering her in. "Madam Pence usually sits here while she waits," he said, pointing to a chair by the door. "But you're a mudblood, and he wouldn't want you sitting on his furniture," He spoke more to himself before moving the chair out of the space. "Stand there, or kneel if you like, it may be a while," He said before turning to go sit at a small secretary's desk.

She decided it would be best to kneel if the man was right, and she would be waiting a while. She wondered if she would get in trouble if she took too long, but he said Madam Pence also waited, so the woman should know.

When the young man went back to his work, she took the time to look around the room. The office wasn't the right word for it exactly. It seemed much more like a workspace. There were three large tables set up in a U formation piled with books and notes of all kinds. They were high, so one could stand and still read or write comfortably. Every spare piece of wall space was covered in books, most looked much older than the ones in the library, and that was saying something.

When she had taken every detail of the room, she noticed that Percy's back was to her as he scribbled away at something. She bit her lip and looked down at the books on her lap. Would it be that harmful if she read some of one while she was waiting?

She put the smallest on top and started to scan the book;  _ The Mind of Magic _ by Cornelius Agrippa. It was the first printing and seemed to be an advanced volume on the effects of will and intelligence on the casting of spells. She soaked in the knowledge; even if some things made no sense to her just yet, the tome offered a lot for Hermione to consider.

It talked about spells well above what she found in Ron's book and fathoms away from the meager spells any mudblood could cast. But that didn't stop her from wanting to absorb as much of the theory as she could understand. It was possible that when Madam Pence finally trusted her enough to read some books, she would be able to backtrack to more basic works and understand everything the book had to offer.

She jumped when long chilled fingers tilted her chin up to look directly into the eyes of a man she never thought she would see in person. It seemed as if he had caught her reading his book.

Of course, she had seen pictures of him; there was a painting of him at H.O.M.E 13. Lord Voldemort was the keeper and ruler of their nation, and it was expected that every mudblood know who they owed for their lives and education.

Lord Voldemort had striking looks for a man pushing seventy. He had dark red eyes with slits more fit for a snake. His skin was pale, almost gaunt, but so smooth that the shadows just added to his odd perfection. His black hair made his skin look all the more white, and the cut was on the longer side, giving him a bit of a rugged edge.

His charms were legendary, but he would never waste anything like that one a lowly mudblood.

"Were you reading that or just looking at the pictures?" He asked in a demeaning tone that said he was doubtful she could read at all. But what unsettled Hermione more was his voice, a voice that happened to be an exact match for the man in her dreams.

"Umm." She choked out when she realized he was waiting for an actual answer. She had never heard him speak before; how had it made its way into her dream?

"There is the wit your people are known for." He mocked, snatching the books from her. "Tell Madam Pence last week's books will be ready tomorrow." He said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

"Yes, my Lord." She choked out as her throat seemed to wish to close in a mix of anger and fear. She understood many parts of his stupid book, and she wished she could tell him so, but that seemed more dangerous than it was worth.

Instead, she rushed from the room and nearly ran back to the safety of the library. She was out of breath when she got back to Madam Pence's desk.

"The Dark Lord said that he would have books from last week ready tomorrow."

"Go back to dusting then, and you can pick them up tomorrow on your way here." She said, not turning away from a few students who whispered in a corner. She seemed to be on the lookout for trouble.

"What if they aren't ready so early, Ma'am?" She asked with a frown of having to go back so soon.

"Wait for them, obviously." She waved a hand without looking away from her prey.

"Yes, Ma'am." Hermione rushed off to finish what she could of the dusting. She tried not to think about having to see the man again so soon.

Hermione's thoughts were filled with all the things she should have said to the Dark Lord when he asked her if she was reading the book. She could have asked him any number of the questions she had about the text to prove that she wasn't as dumb as he assumed.

It wasn't until she was getting ready for bed that she started to think about her other discovery. Voldemort had sounded very much like the voice from her dream. But as she braided her hair, she was slowly convincing herself that it wasn't exactly the same voice. It was only that the dream had a pleasant manly voice, and so did the Dark Lord.

With a final nod as she tied her braid off, she slipped under the covers and closed her eyes. She needed a good night's sleep after staying up too late and getting up too early.

She smiled as one of her other favorite dreams fill her head. The swimming in shadows dream was now tainted, so sitting in her garden of gloom was the next best thing. Throughout the years, her dreams have always been a place of escape and delight for her.

She never questioned the darkness that always enveloped her when she went to sleep; it was different from the darkness that controlled her life in the waking hours.

Here in her garden of shadow, everything was soft and kind. The flowers grew wild in shades of black, blue, and the deepest violet. Sometimes in these dreams, Hermione would swim in a black lake that reflected the night sky so perfectly it felt like swimming among the stars.

Other times, like tonight, she would just lay down in the soft grass and listen to the trees' swaying. They whispered to her like the shadows and told her she was beautiful and intelligent and so very powerful.

Her garden was a safe place where she could hide away from all the awful things in the real world. She didn't know how long she lay there as dreams move in funny ways. A few moments of sleep can feel like years in a dream, and sometimes a night of sleep can only seem like a moment.

"Where have you taken me tonight, little spirit?" The sound of his voice again so soon made her open her dream eyes. But it wasn't filled with the cold disdain from the afternoon. No, it was filled with gentle amusement.

She didn't want him here. This was a place just for her; she couldn't understand why he kept invading her dreams. She slipped further into the shadows of her garden so she could hide from the rude intruder.

"I know you're here, little spirit; this place is filled with your magic." He said, stepping into the clearing she had just vacated.

She could see him now; he looked exactly as he had in the waking world. Black robes moving around his tall form as the wind lightly tousled his hair.

"You're such a powerful little spirit; why hide from your Master?" He asked, making her frown.

The garden was her place, the one place where she called no-one master. Why would he say such a thing? She made the grass start to grow around his feet to prove her point. He recognized her magic and dared to call himself Master here?

"I have no Master in this place." She said once she was sure his feet were secure so that he could move hiding places before he could find her.

"I am the Master of all dark spirits, little one." He replied before noticing her trap. He didn't trip as she had wished, only jerked forward before seeing the grass. "Even the wildest of you belong to me." He says as he uses his magic to turn the grass to dust.

"Go away; this place is mine." She told him before moving around again as she gave away a new hiding place.

"You're power is delicious, little spirit. I don't want to go away." He started to search for her in the tall grass as she moved silently through it. It was a testament to how much this place was a part of her.

"Why do I keep dreaming about you?" She asked him, but it is the wind that speaks as it rushes by, trying to push her towards him.

"He is the one he is the one he calls."

"Spirits don't dream." He answered, moving towards her hiding place as the wind was making it obvious.

"I'm not a spirit." She countered, trying to move, but the breeze followed, trying to convince her that she needed to go to him.

"You're not? What do you think you are, little one?" He asked, sounding amused. "You've given yourself a pretty little body; I felt it last night. I would not mind feeling it again." He added as if this should be a compliment to her. "Did you want me to use it as if you were a real woman?" He teased, making her finally step out into his line of sight.

"I am a woman!" She snapped, crossing her arms over her chest as the wind whipped around her tossing her hair and dress as she glared at him. "So, just get out of my dream!"

"The mudblood?" He asked, frowning at her. "Why would you want to look like her?" He asked with the disdain she remembered from that afternoon.

"I thought I had a pretty little body?" She mocked because it was her dream, and it was the only place she did not have to fear or bow to her betters, not even Lord Voldemort.

His eyes run down the ledge of her, and Hermione suddenly wished she hadn't said anything as a smirk appeared on his lips.

"It is a pretty little body." He agreed, shifting his hand as he had done with the grass.

Hermione frowned, looking around for what he was trying to do when she felt the breeze catch the ashes that were once her dress and blow them away, leaving her standing nude in front of the dream Dark Lord.

"I wonder if her body really looks like that." He asked himself as he gave her a devilish smirk. "Is that the game you're playing, little spirit?" He asked, sounding curious as she tried to cover herself with her arms. "Would you like me to bed her? She wasn't particularly interesting, but I can always imagine she's you."

She put her hands on her hips, not caring what this dream saw of her. There was no way she was going to take the insult in the space of a dream. But before she had the satisfaction of telling me off, she awoke in her bed.

She growled at the ceiling as the moment was stolen once more. But she had slept a full night and felt so more rested than she had the day before, at least. With a sigh, she slipped out of bed and started to get ready for the day.

She groaned as she remembered she had to return to the Dark Lord's office. Would she be able not to blush and control her emotions after the look dream version had given her? After the things, he had said to her?

_ Would you like me to bed her? _

She shivered and shook the thought out of her head. After the sneer the real version gave her the day before, Hermione felt at no risk of unwanted advances from the nation's leader.

Hermione meticulously dressed and did her hair in the neat bun once more. She needed extra armor to return to the north corridor, so she double-checked that she didn't have a stitch out of place. Hermione wouldn't look him in the eyes; that would help her not think of the horrible dream. Or analyze why she was dreaming of him in that context at all.


	6. Outburst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
> 
> A/N- Warning: One more chapter, and the updates are probably going to slow down... Getting to the end of what I've already written.

The guards let her pass without a second glance, but nobody answered when she knocked on the office door. She looked around the hall, knowing it was still relatively early, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. Madam Pence said to wait but was she supposed to stay in the hall or the office.

She knocked one more time, and when no answer came, she decided to try the door. It opened without resistance, and she bit her lip as indecision ran through her. Hermione pushed the door open as quietly as she could and glanced around the darkened room.

There were still a few candles lit, and the tall windows she hadn't paid attention to the day before let in the gray light of predawn. She moved to the window after closing the door quietly behind her so she could look down and see the grounds of Hogwarts.

She didn't exactly have a window in her room, and those in the library were set so one could only see the shy. She hadn't had a chance to appreciate the expansive green lawn that spread out to a dark forest and a crystal lake. In the distance, she could see the rolling hills of wild places, and she found herself moving closer to the window wishing to experience things she would never know.

Even the smell of the air here was different from everything she had known before. She closed her eyes and took a long slow breath as real untamed air pressed her face.

"Do they no longer teach boundaries in the H.O.M.E. system?" The deep voice of Lord Voldemort asked as his breath brushed against her ear.

How the heck had he gotten so close without her noticing anything, someone needed to put a bell around the Dark Lord's neck.

"I'm here to pick up your books, my Lord." She said, keeping as still as she could as felt his chest pressed against her back. Suddenly as if he turned on some tap, she could feel his magic all around her, enveloping. She was suddenly surrounded and light-headed as if she couldn't get enough air through the thickness of his magic. 

"How did someone like you gain work in the Hogwarts library, I wonder." He asked curiously, seeming to be oblivious of her struggle or the way his breath tickled the hair on her neck.

"Madam Pence needed an assistant, my Lord." She answered, wondering when he was going to move away. Why was he invading her personal space?

"I knew that." He said, moving forward with his body so that he had her hips pressed against the window ledge. His arms moving up and rested on either side of the window to make her feel wholly trapped both magically and physically.

"I was assigned to the job, my Lord." She wondered exactly how she had gotten herself into such a mess. Alone and pinned against an open window by the Dark Lord himself.

"And who did you bed to be assigned such a sought after position?" He asked, and she could tell he was mocking her.

_ Would you like me to bed her? _

The voice from her dream popped up unbidden, reminding her how close her imagination had mimicked the real thing.

"No one, my Lord. I graduated with good marks, and I got the job number correct when asked." She told him as her hand itched to go for her wand. There wasn't much that she would be able to do, but just having it in her hand would make her feel safer.

He shifted again, giving her room only to forcibly turn her to face him and crowd her back against the window. She had to move herself up onto the ledge to avoid being crushed by his intimidating form.

He looked into her eyes, holding her gaze like a cobra mesmerizes its prey as he reached around her and undid the pins that held her bun in place.

"I liked it better down." He said, making her frown slightly. She had been wearing it up yesterday as well, so the statement made very little since. Except. Except in the dream, she had let it flow free.

_ Would you like me to bed her? _

She shook her head again. It was a dream. It was an annoying dream and had very little to do with what was happening just then.

"You are fetching, aren't you?" He asked, his eyes traveling down her form and back up to her face. "I hadn't noticed yesterday."

"I've never bedded anyone, my Lord." She was very confused by the way he was invading her every sense.

His chuckle was dark and promised sinful things she had never been tempted by before. But he was so powerful, and she didn't want to admit the yearning that was starting to grow in some very unfortunate places.

"And how about blushing, Mudblood? Have you done that for anyone before?" He asked as he played with the strands of her now loose hair.

"I want to be a librarian, my Lord." She said because their bodies were much too close for her comfort. Why was he so forward when just yesterday he had treated her with nothing but disdain?

"Do you think pleasing your Lord would disqualify you?" His fingers trailed over her neck. "I could make life easier for you if I wished. I can be very generous to those who please me." He said as he leaned in a bit more.

She leaned back away from him until he caught the back of her hair.

"You don't want to fall from here." Hermione looked down again as he held her. Even though they were on the first floor, it was quite a drop because of how the castle was built on uneven ground.

She gasped, sitting up with a jerk as she tried not to fall. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord was ready for the move, and his lips were there to meet her neck. She gasped again as he held her tight, forcing her to feel him suck on the column of her neck. It sent a confusing thrill through her that she didn't want to understand.

"I'm not this kind of girl, my Lord!" She gasped, and her hand moved to her wand because she had nothing left to lose.

He pulled back from her neck and looked down at the wand in her hand. "Exactly what do you expect to do with that mudblood? Tidy me away?" He mocked cruelly.

"I don't want you to bed me." She said because his stupid words from her dream were still invading her brain.

He looked back at her with something new in his eyes, but she didn't know what that was. His face was a mask that scared her to her core.

"Why did you come into my office uninvited?" He asked as if the only reason to do such a thing was to let him have his way with her.

"To wait for the books you spoke of yesterday, my Lord. I wasn't sure where to wait, and the door was unlocked." She said, trying to get herself under control. His hands were still holding her hair, and it was very distracting to have him so close.

"You don't want my favor then? All you want is to do your little pathetic job and be a good little mudblood." He said, his words mocking once more.

"I like my job, my Lord. If I am good and do well, Madam Pence says she will allow me to read some of the books." She admitted because she didn't want him to think her job was pathetic.

"You want to read books?" He asked as if this amused him. "Which books?"

"Whatever I'm allowed, my Lord." She told him honestly.

"What would a simple mudblood need with books?" He asked, jerking her head back again to expose her neck once more.

"I have more than just a pretty little body." She told him, shaking as her hand tightened around the wand. She could feel her magic building as her stress rose. She knew she needed to get away before something terrible happened.

"A pretty…" He started as her magic built inside of her the way it would sometimes when she lost control.

As the power started to grow, Hermione's wand started to heat up as if it was about to burst into flames. She needed to control herself. She couldn't have an outburst in front of the Dark Lord of all people. But the more she worked to maintain the power, the more it built until it was pounding inside her head.

When the power broke free of her last bit of control, the disruptive darkness burst from her skin and clouded her vision. She slipped off the windowsill as Voldemort was pushed away. She wondered if she had killed him; he had been standing so close when those at her H.O.M.E. had learned to get away quickly. She was a dead woman either way.

Ashes left from Hermione robes fell away from her, reminding her of the dream once again. She had blacked the stone under her, and the wand was nothing but a charcoal stick in her hand.

His long spiderlike fingers tilted her chin up once more, and this time he brushed his thumb over her lips.

"You're not a spirit." The Dark Lord's face was filled with delight; it frightened her.

"My dream?" She questioned with a frown, and he just smiled down at her.

"My dream." He answered before the door burst open.

"My Lord! Are you alight?" A wizard asked as she was sure the outburst had drawn the guards from down the hall.

"Oh, yes." He answered them without taking his eyes off of her face. "Much better than alright."

"I didn't hurt you, my Lord?" She asked, still very much in a daze and not understanding what could be happening.

"We heard…" The wizard spoke again, and this time the Dark Lord turned to address him.

"Nothing I can't handle myself. Now leave us." He ordered sharply.

Hermione took the moment she wasn't locked in his gaze to look around her and found that the damage wasn't nearly as widespread as it had been in the past. A three-foot radius around her was black, but beyond that point, nothing seemed harmed.

"You contained it?" It was the only answer to how she had not done more damage.

"Of course, this wasn't a place you can simply destroy my pet. You will have to learn some manners." He said matter of factly.

"I don't understand." She shook her head as she looked up at him and then back down at the blackened stone under her.

"You don't have to understand yet," Voldemort pulled her to her feet by her arm. "Can you stand?" He asked, and she wondered why he hadn't asked before he pulled her up.

She stumbled weekly and grasped ahold of his robe to steady herself. She was never good at walking after an outburst and usually ended up crawling into bed for a good sleep. He put his arm around her waist and held her close, which made her feel safe for a moment before remembering who she was holding her.

"Not really, my Lord," She answered in a sarcastic tone. She was much too drained to play nice, and it was all his fault.

"If you throw up on me, I  _ will _ punish you." He commented with a sneer, but she shook her head.

"That hasn't happened before, my Lord." She said, wondering if he would just set her down in a chair or something or if he planned to hold her all day.

"I somehow doubt that was your first time, girl." 

"Granger, my Lord." She said awkwardly; it felt weird that he didn't know her name.

"Miss Granger, I highly doubt you've never had an outburst like that before." He sounded happy for some reason.

"I have abysmal control." She admitted. "But it hasn't happened in about a year; they thought I was getting better. Are you doing to send me back to the H.O.M.E?" It was the best she could hope for after what happened. She shivered as she thought about what her old Headmaster would do to her if she were dropped back into his lap.

"I don't think that will be helpful to anyone." He explained dryly. She could feel his fingers drumming against her side as if he was thinking.

"Please put me down?" She asked, trying to keep her voice under control. It was a worse position than against the windowsill, and thanks to her stupid magic, she was naked and clinging to him.

He had no right to be touching her at all. She may be a mudblood, but that didn't make her a whore to the empire! She could feel his free hand move into her curls before he pulled her head back to look down into her eyes.

"I just need rest, for now, my Lord." She whimpered as the grasp he had was only helping to intensify the beginnings of a headache. "I've depleted myself; the Healers always told me to sleep it off."

"So officials at your H.O.M.E already know about these little outbursts?" He asked in a detached tone.

"They thought I had it under control. It hasn't happened in a year, I swear." She felt like she was going to cry. How did she have this kind of luck? At least it didn't happen in the library; that could have been even worse.

She thought of the circle again but couldn't move her head while it was in his grasp so she could look.

"No one's stopped it like that before." She told him as she wondered how he had done it.

"I need to look into this further." He said, but she could tell he wasn't speaking to her. He loosened his hold on her hair as she watched his expression shift inwardly. He dropped her in a hap on the floor without warning. Hermione whimpered at the sudden jolt to her system even though she had already asked him to let her go.

She looked up at the Dark Lord from her prone position on the floor. "What are you going to do with me now, my Lord?" She was entirely at his will without even a wand left to protect her.

He just ignored her and moved away towards one of his high tables. She shifted herself carefully on the floor so she could lay in a more comfortable position. It wasn't like she would be able to make it to her room in the basement in her condition.

She could hear the scratching sound of writing, and it, combined with how drained she was, slowly let her drift to a light sleep. She wasn't sure how long she lay there before the sound of the door opening woke her again.

"Weasley." The Dark Lord greeted the person distractedly as he continued to write.

"My Lord," Percy replied respectfully before she could hear him moving into the room. "My Lord?" This time the words were much more questing. "Isn't that Madam Pence's new girl?" He asked hesitantly.

"I didn't even think of that." The Dark Lord sighed. "Take these books back to the old vulture before she comes down here to get them herself. Tell her I will be keeping her assistant until further notice."

"Yes, my Lord." Percey agreed, and Hermione could hear him putting his orders into action.

When the door opened and closed again, Hermione groaned, trying to see if she could sit up yet. She didn't want to spend the day naked on the Dark Lord's floor.

"If you could give me… anything to cover myself. I'll get out of your way, my Lord." She said, feeling dizzy the moment she sat up, but she wasn't going to show any more weakness in front of this man.

"Elf." He called, and one of Hogwarts's many elves appeared at his side bowing so deeply its stubby nose touched the ground.

"Wexler here to do Master's bidding." It said without looking up from the floor.

"This girl is grounded to her room." He said, waving back at Hermione without looking away from his table. "Let her get cleaned up and then make sure she stays there until I say otherwise." He ordered the elf.

"Wexler understands Master." The elf said with a nod before taking Hermione's arm roughly and magically transporting them both to the mudblood bathroom.

The feeling was like nothing Hermione had ever felt before, like being sucked through a much too small tube. With her already frayed nerves, she turned and emptied her stomach on the bathroom floor. At least she hadn't done it in front of Voldemort.

"Master say Mudblood get clean now." The elf waved its hands at her and vanishing the vomit with a disgusted expression.

"Give me a moment." Hermione groans, still feeling dizzy and sick from traveling and her outburst.

The elf pokes her hard in the side to try and get her to move, but she could only crawl towards the shower stall.

"Wexler must do everything." It snapped before levitating her limp body into the shower.

"I can do it!" She tried to find footing as the elf kept her in the air. She thought she was going to throw up again, but that urge halted the moment the freezing water hit her full blast.

She screamed as the cold hit her warm skin, and it felt like she was burning from the icy temperature. She couldn't focus on anything as she was shifted to and fro under the torturous flow.

"Please stop!" She whimpered, her body cramping under the rough treatment.

When the water finally turns off, Hermione was still shivering hard enough to make her teeth chatter. The small relief didn't last as she is squeezed through another tube and dumped on a cold stone floor. Her hair and body were soaked, and after the torture of the so called shower, she felt even less well than when she had been lying on Lord Voldemort's floor.

She had no wand to dry herself and no energy left to move, so she just laid there trying to find the will to at least shift into a more comfortable position. The will power did not come.

It was the worst day of her life, and she didn't know what the Dark Lord would do to her next. She considered letting the cold seep into her bones and giving in to the chill had threatened to swallow her whole.

She smiled when she started to lose feeling; her shaking slowly eased as her body gave up the fight for warmth. She had read in a book once that it was the first sign of freezing to death. First, the person stopped feeling cold, and then they drifted off to a peaceful sleep before dying.

It didn't sound so bad just then. Hermione frowned as she realized what she was thinking. She wasn't the type to give up so easily. What about all the books in the world she hadn't been allowed to read yet? How could she die before at least looking at a few of those in the Hogwarts library?

"Books." Her voice sounded rough to her ears, but it was what she needed to try and get moving. When she opened her eyes, she was looking directly under a small bed, and it wasn't hard to figure out that she must have been on the floor of her room.

With a slow groan, she tried to move her arm first. The book had said to stay awake and keep moving to combat the cold. If she could get to bed, she could wrap herself in her blankets, at least. She tried to push herself forward with new resolve and found herself a little closer to the bed.

She was already panting, and she hadn't gotten that much closer. Keep moving was her mantra as she inched towards her bed, not yet considering how she would lift herself up.

It took a long while before she could put her hand on the mattress, it was time for her to figure out the second part of the plan, but she had nothing. She was exhausted, but she couldn't just give up after all the work she had done to get that far.

Hermione's whole body shook with cold and exhaustion as she grasped the cover and tried to pull it towards her, even if she couldn't pull herself up to it. It fought her hold, and she cursed how meticulous she was in making her bed.


	7. Chapter 6: A Pretty Little Spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
> 
> N/A- Welcome to Voldemort's POV! Also, this is the last chapter I have finished...

He dreamed of darkness often when he slept. Back in the orphanage, when he was a child, the shadows had been his only friends. As a grown man and ruler of a nation, surrounded by people who served his every whim, it was only the shadow's company he enjoyed. When he first arrived at Hogwarts and discovered different kinds of magic, he was naturally drawn to the darkest of the lot. Others shied away from the void and called it evil. In contrast, he dove further than any wizard in centuries.

Even his followers had to be taught to overcome their fear of facing the darkness. He showed them the real power it could grant them. But none ever dared to follow him as deeply as he was willing to go. They kept the light in sight, never knowing what could truly be achieved if one just let go. Even his Bella, the bravest among his disciples, stayed leagues away from where he tread without fear.

Part of it was intelligence; the further one goes, the smarter they must be to stay on the path to their goals and find their way back. Many wizards go mad in the void, never finding what they seek.

He always knew the way. He found the hidden places and made allies with those things that others feared. He became known as the Master of Darkness in the realm others dared not visit. After decades of living and enjoying the shadows' company more than any human, it became natural for the realm's spirits to visit him from time to time.

They would ask favors of their Master, just like those who served him in the mortal realm. They offered their power, and he drank deep of it. Lord Voldemort knew inside he was a better sovereign to the dark realm than he would ever be in the mortal one, but he couldn't find a reason to care.

The first dream of her was something completely new. The Dark Lord could hear the spirits talking; they wished to give him a gift, excited to provide him with something extraordinary. Soon after, he felt a solid female form pressed against his chest, and then she was gone. The darkness and shadows were never solid. The new spirit was something very different, and that excited him. He needed to know more.

Voldemort had been asleep a while when the spirit returned the next night. He could feel something different in the darkness; the void was as exciting as he was to have the new spirit in their company.

"Why are you here, spirit?" He wondered if it could communicate; not all of the dark energy had what one would call sapience. The thing had taken a solid female form; he didn't have to touch her again to know; he could feel it in the way the power moved.

"I'm not a spirit." She was defiant and quite capable of speech. "This is my dream." She was confused about her existence.

"No dear spirit of darkness." He reached out, wanting to touch this new creature. No woman had ever honestly tempted him. His ongoing affair with Bella was more to keep her happy than any real, lasting desire he had for her. But this creature, a female spirit of darkness, that was something he desired. "This is  _ my _ dream." He pulled her quickly to him and trying to trap her in his arms. She was gone again before he had a real grasp on her; she left him with a lingering sensation of skin against skin.

The next day he found himself distracted. He needed to see this spirit and show her to whom she belonged. None of the rest would defy him in such a way, but that only made her more delicious to him. He would have her, tame her, and make her utterly his. No other wizard could dare to claim such a spirit.

The only distraction from his obsession after the second dream was the mudblood. He found the girl kneeling where the vulture librarian should have been sitting with his requested books. If she had been kneeling properly and keeping her place, he probably would have noticed her at all, but the little thing actually thought it could read on the same level as Lord Voldemort. It didn't take much effort to put her in her place and send her running back to her hole.

Then the third dream came, and there stood his spirit in the body of the little mudblood. She wasn't any good at mimicking the flesh in blood one's personality. His dark spirit was feisty and forceful. He would enjoy taming her bit by bit, but the idea of bedding the mudblood, using her until he could have what he really wanted, was such a perfect and appealing thought. He could even train the girl to act as the spirit did and pretend he was tasting the real thing.

When he found the girl uninvited in his office that morning, it was like a sign. He thought it wouldn't take much to have her on her knees, but the more he pushed, the more she pushed back. He was starting to enjoy the game when he felt the dark power build inside of her.

He almost didn't get the shield spell up in time, but he wasn't about to let her know that. And after the outburst, it didn't take a genius to figure out the little mudblood  _ was _ , in fact, the spirit he had been courting. He needed time to look into the girl. He needed to figure out precisely what she was and how he could own her, and the power she contained. His need for her only grew, but he couldn't let her know, or she could try and use it as a weapon against him.

He sent her away then, she needed time to recover, and he needed time to find out as much as he could about who and what she was. Once the elf took her away, he went straight to the person who should know the most about her human life.

"My Lord." Severus bowed as he swept into the Headmaster's office. "How may I serve you?"

"I want the file on your newest mudblood." He got comfortable in the chair across from the Headmaster.

"The girl?" He asked as if he needed clarification, but he must have wondered why the Dark Lord would care for any mudblood.

"The one from the library." It was not his job to settle the other man's curious mind.

"Of course, my Lord. Has she done something to displease you?" Severus asked bluntly as the man got to his feet to retrieve what the Dark Lord desired. "She had a bit of an interesting placement." He added, knowing it was best to give his Lord as much information about a subject as possible.

"Did she?" He asked, watching the other man move to a file cabinet.

"I informed you of the issues we were having with Caris Fiddlewit?" He said, and Voldemort recalled the name. "He insisted she needed another year, citing behavior issues. She was only one in a long line of these sorts of requests, always female and pretty. With her marks, we assumed he wished to have a new pleasure girl and refused his request. Were we wrong, my Lord?" He asked as he held the file out.

"No." He gave the man no more information. When he opened the file, he started at the most recent reports and went backward. She said she hadn't had an outburst in a year, but there should be some documentation of previous outbursts if she had seen a Healer about it.

He growled when he found nothing. The girl's file was filled with report cards and school marks. It seemed the first tended to outpace her peers by leaps and bounds. But that wasn't hard to do when you were a magical being of some kind, and they were lowly mudbloods.

That was his working theory, at least. There was just no way she could actually be a mudblood or even a witch with that much darkness just living inside of her. When he got to the beginning of the file, his frown deepened.

"There was a request to have the girl executed?" He asked, which seemed to surprise Severus. "When she was three?" He asked, looking over the letter. It appeared she had cursed the first wizard sent to collect her from her muggle parents.

"I hadn't thought to look that far back in his records, my Lord, forgive me." The dark man said, bowing his head back in regret.

"No need. It seemed that Bella wanted the girl put down." He got to his feet and kept the file. "It also seems that Caris has a little more for which to answer. I want to have a little chat with that fool."

"I will send for him, my Lord," Severus said, giving him space to leave.

"If he doesn't show up here by tomorrow, I want a warrant out, do you understand. I want him alive. He has questions to answer." He wanted to make himself perfectly clear.

"It will be done, my Lord." The Headmaster said with one last bow as Voldemort left to return to his own office.

He looked around at his current projects, all in varying stages of being underway. He needed to add another, but he couldn't let the girl know how much she fascinated him. No, he would keep all the power for himself, and she would learn to submit no matter what she was.

He tapped her file against his leg; this was only the beginning of his research; he had many hours of study ahead of him as he worked to unravel her mystery.

"My Lord? Madam Pence wanted to know if you had a timetable on how long you were planning to keep the girl? She wanted me to remind you that she isn't a young woman, and that is the reason you agreed to get her an assistant in the first place." Weasley said, drawing his attention away from his current problem.

"Tell her I will return the girl when I am finished with her." He hissed. If it weren't the fact that the old vulture knew the Hogwarts stacks better than anyone alive, he would have throttled her himself years ago. "Wait, no, tell her I only need the girl for a few days, a week at the most." He amended as a new idea made him smirk.

He would send the girl back to the library after she was recovered, and they could be more fully introduced to one another. It would keep the girl close at hand without making her suspect the level of his interest. He loved a good plan.

"Yes, my Lord." The man said with a bow of his head before getting up to deliver his message.

With the boy gone, Voldemort set the file on top of his runes work and started to separate different years of her development. He looked over her intake papers and smiled when he saw Lucius' signature at the bottom. Would Malfoy remember the girl he wondered? He would ask when they had a private moment, no reason to rush.

In the complaint, Bella claims the girl cast an Imperius on Rodolphus, which took him out of commission for several weeks. He smiled to think of such dark untrained power in a three-year-old, then frowns as he wondered why no one brought it to his attention directly. The imbeciles couldn't see the signs of something interesting even with it bit them in the arse. And this girl had all but done so.

How did she end up on the Hogwarts mudblood lists if she was some kind of dark being? He shook his head as he looked over the file on her parents. They seemed to be very ordinary average muggles. They had their memories wiped of the child and were sent on their way like so many around Britain. 

There had been no reason to announce the presence of the magic world at that time. They had spared the muggles parents of the mudbloods over the years because if a couple had one magical child, they were much more likely to have another. The mudbloods were disgusting creatures with only one or two uses, but the H.O.M.Es were perfect places to train the beasts into protective members of a magical nation.

The system was near perfect, and in a few generations of training, these creatures would help him conquer the world, muggle and wizard alike. He was, after all, a patient god.

From the file, the girl was their biological daughter, so how had she come by such a powerful magical heritage? Was the research missing something about the parents, or was she a spontaneous abnormality? He sighed when he found they hadn't procreated a second time. If the girl had a sister or brother, he could see if they showed similar powers? But the file showed that the couple had had a hard time conceiving their first child and were unable to have another after they had forgotten her.


	8. Filth & Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
> 
> A/N- I haven't even started the next chapter yet, so I have no clue when it will be done. I have outlined this story out to 19 chapters... which is why I've added that to the info. Though I think it is probably going to be longer.

In the girl's room, he finds her whimpering, cold, and curled on wet stone with one hand hopelessly tugging at the cover on her bed. He forced a detached expression as he thought that even the elves seemed to need everything spelled out for them.

"Interesting interpretation of my orders." He said as he looked her over.

"I hate you; just let me die." She tried to shift to glare at him and gasped in pain. Her eyes were bright and feverish. He would murder the elf and mount it on the wall if the girl died. He wasn't sure its chances of surviving the night even if she lived.

Stepping forward, he slid his arms over her and carefully lifted her into the bed. She wasn't in any position to refuse him, her already small body weak in his arms. He set her down on the hard mattress before using a wandless drying spell, followed by a warming charm.

"I don't plan on letting you die anytime soon, little spirit." He said in a mocking tone even though it was more of a promise than the girl would understand.

"You invaded my dreams." She tried to glare at him. Her lips were a bit blueish, but her skin was quickly turning from pale to ruddy. The bright gleam in her eyes and the way she couldn't quite keep them open spoke of sickness, but he was confident she would survive.

"Did you have dreams like those before coming to Hogwarts?" He asked, wondering if he could use her fevered state to get her to speak to him openly. He shifted her naked form under the covers and considered casting a few spells to make her more comfortable. A thicker blanket and softer mattress could do her w world of good during her recovery.

"All my life." She nodded sleepily, seeming to have no issue with the thin covers or hard mattress. His pet was used to such conditions; giving her more would only make her suspicious of his motives. "The shadows were my only friends at H.O.M.E 13." She shook her head. "You wouldn't understand."

Voldemort showed no sign of how much the simple statement affected him. "I do not feel the need to empathize with a lesser being." He told her dryly. "How often have you had these outbursts? Are they what kept you from  _ making friends _ ?" He asked, but he was glad she had no friends; he did not need  _ his _ little spirit of darkness to have attachments outside of him. The shadows told him she was a gift; after all, she belongs to him no matter what she thought.

"Lots of reasons." Hermione shrugged and forced her eyes open once more. "Why do you care? Why invade the meaningless dreams of a  _ lesser being _ ?"

She was still more coherent than he had initially thought; he needed to tread with care. It seemed the girl didn't understand how real her dreams were, and he preferred to keep it that way.

"You invited me." He smirked and leaned down over her. It was best if she thought his interest was entirely physical. "A pretty little mudblood does seem to enjoy baring her flesh to her Lord." He brushed his hand down her neck, and she tried to look away.

"Please don't?" She asked, frowning up at him; she looked utterly lost, it suited her. He gave her a cold smile and withdrew his hand. "I'm sorry, my Lord." She looked away from him. She knew she was pressing her luck to refuse someone like him. But Voldemort had never been interested in taking things by force; that was the muggle way.

"Why call to me if you do not seek my attention?"

The girl licked her lips and forced herself to swallow; she still wasn't looking at him.

"I don't know how or why I did that. I want to do my job here, my Lord. It is a dream for me to work in a place like this to maybe be granted access to a few books. I have no ambition beyond that." She told him softly.

The girl wanted to learn, and there was so much he wanted to teach her. He had a feeling she would not shy away from the void as so many had done before.

"Oh, that is a greater ambition than you admit. We shall speak again, Miss Granger; you can be sure of that. For now, I want you to rest, and I'm going to have the Headmaster check on you. ." He said before his mind shifted back to the stupid elf that had caused him even more trouble. "I'll have to punish the elf." He added to himself as he got to his feet; ever since meeting the girl, his list of things to get done kept growing.

"Make him take an ice shower!" She growled; the venom in her expression sent a jolt of pleasure to unexpected places. "A very  _ long _ ice shower." She added with a smile as she was dreaming of torturing the elf herself. That was something to consider. The girl would need a subject on which to practice any magic he taught her.

"I think I can do better than that." He gave nothing away from the pleasure he felt over her reaction. "I will let you know what I decide. Do get some rest now. I must return you in perfect condition." He told her before turning to the door.

"Can you please stay out of my dreams?" She murmured as he headed for the door. He chuckled low but did not answer her.

Once he was down the hall, the Dark Lord wondered if he  _ could _ stay out of her dreams if he wanted. It was a hard question because that was the very last thing he wanted. He wanted to explore every last spect of her mind.

In fact, he was having a tough time keeping himself from taking a nap so that he could have more time invading her subconscious. He shook his head. There was too much to do just then; he didn't have the time to sleep the day away.

When he got back to his office, he wrote a quick message to Severus to check on the girl and make sure the elf's actions wouldn't get her too sick. He then wrote another letter to Lucius summoning for an audience the following day.

Once Percy was off delivering his messages, Voldemort picked up the girl's file again and started to flip through it as he considered where he would be able to keep the information he gathered on her. He didn't need her or any of his followers to determine the true extent of his interest. The office was out of the question; even if he made a secure space there, he was sure the girl would notice if the room's dimensions changed.

He headed back to his quarters. Though he considered that he would bring her there at some point, it had the advantage that the girl had never seen the space before, and no one else would dare question him on a change.

He smelled the intruder to his private space before he saw her. In all her curvaceous glory, Bellatrix Lestrange was stretched out lazily on his bed in nothing but a pair of green lace knickers. She lay on her stomach and was reading a book as she waited for him. It was quite early for him to return to his bed-chamber, but he assumed she had nothing better to do with her day.

Usually, he would have some physical reaction to the sight of the inarguably beautiful dark witch reading nearly naked in his domain. But after the day he had and with the thoughts of what was within his grasp, Bella's charms weren't as moving as it would have been before he met his dark spirit made flesh.

"I'm not in the mood." Voldemort was never one to mince words when he didn't have to.

Bella looked up from her book and gave him a little pout. It seemed she had become complacent in their relationship. She thought she had the power to change his mind. She thought because he humored her before that, he would always play when she wanted.

"Leave." He ordered before turning away and scanning his walls. He needed to choose a place for his workspace that wasn't too noticeable.

"But my Lord." She whimpered playfully; he could tell he hadn't injured Bella's pride; she thought he was playing coy.

Voldemort rolled his eyes and turned back towards the woman. "I'm not interested tonight." Now that he had his little spirit of darkness, he wasn't likely to have the energy to play with Bellatrix as often, or at all, but if he told her that, she would only make a scene.

"I-I don't understand, my Lord. Have I displeased you?" She asked as he heard her slip off the bed. It seemed he had humored her attraction for too long.

He turned to find her a few feet behind him, displaying herself to him without a shred of shame or modesty.

_ I'm not this kind of girl, my Lord _ .

His thoughts ran to the Granger girl as he looked as his longtime consort. Bella was precisely the kind of woman his spirit claimed not to be. He enjoyed Bella's boldness and pride, and he would teach the girl to be proud as well.

"I had a question for you," Voldemort said as he thought back to Bella's name in the girl's file.

"My Lord?" She seemed confused and frowned slightly as she was not getting the expected responses from him.

"I came across a curiosity today, your name in a young mudblood's file." He held up the file still in his hand and opened it to the section with Bella's request.

She let out a confused laugh. "In what context, my Lord?" She asked, full of curiosity.

"You requested to have her executed after she attacked Rodolphus? The girl was three years old?"

"Oh,  _ that _ little brat?" She sounded a little relieved and shook her head. "My husband wasn't himself for weeks after the altercation." She gave a little shudder. "But my request was denied by the Bureau of Alternate Resources. Why do you have  _ her _ file? I figured a little beast like that would have gotten herself killed or sent to one of the pleasure houses. Does she still live?" Bella's eyes lit with excitement. "Are you going to give her to me? I could make her scream so prettily for you, my Lord."

As usual, his followers lacked the imagination to understand what was actually going on. It got quite tiresome after a while.

"So, there was a child of three who was strong enough in the Dark Arts that she cursed a grown wizard of Rodolphus' caliber, and no one felt I might be interested in such information?" He asked calmly.

Bella went very still; she had spent enough years with him to know when pain would soon follow an inquiry. He could positively see the gears working in her mind as she tried to find an acceptable reason for her misstep.

"She was just a mudblood, my Lord."

"What a boring answer." He sighed and shook his head.

"My Lord?" She sounded afraid, and he gave her a small smile to ease her worry.

"It isn't your fault you were born without natural curiosity about the world around you, Bella. I know you've tried for my sake, but it isn't in your, and it is someone that can't be forced."

She blushed slightly as Bella knew an insult when she heard one, but it wasn't like she had the will or mind to argue with  _ him _ .

"How can I fix this, my Lord." She took a step forward; she  _ was _ smart enough that he was signaling an end of what they had.

"It is well past time for me to find a worthy mate." He turned his back on her and tossed the file onto his dresser. The act was a show that he did not fear her, and that was another slight in their circles.

"A worthy-" Her voice got a little higher, and Voldemort couldn't help but smirk where she could not see. " _ Who _ is more worthy than I?" She nearly shrieked.

"I need a woman who, when she feels the darkness, she allows it to sink into her being, instead of shying away." He explained, not allowing his smile to reflect in his tone.

"M-my  _ Lord _ ? I've gone deeper into the void than any other of your followers. No one could be my match!" He could feel her directly behind him, and he let his smile drop before spinning to face her. His offhand grasped her neck.

"That little girl you wanted to murder is a woman now, and she has already befriended spirits your fear to approach." He murmured in a low voice as her eyes went wide.

"That  _ girl _ is a mudblood! A filthy-" He squeezed her neck just enough to cut off her words. His eyes flicked to the wand she had left back on his bed. Such a disappointing creature, the woman turned out to be.

"It is hard to know what she is, but I am going to find out."

"No one will accept our Lord mated to filth!" She hissed through the pain.

"Beautiful Bella, you're not going to tell anyone."


End file.
